


JOKER FULL MOVIE ARTHURS POINT OF VIEW PART TWO

by ArthurFlecksGirl



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28359717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthurFlecksGirl/pseuds/ArthurFlecksGirl
Summary: This is part two of the full movie in Arthurs point of view wich contains every scene from the one where he is following Sophie until to his stand up comedy performance at Pogos.
Kudos: 2





	JOKER FULL MOVIE ARTHURS POINT OF VIEW PART TWO

I did it. I made it all the way to stay here , watching you, Sophie.  
Sophie. What a name. Just as beautiful and sensual as the dreams I have of you and me. Sophie....like , could be a name from a romantic comedy. You know, those cheesy films they are making these days. You watch them and feel silly about how much it warms your aching heart. I sometimes like to comfort myself with romance. I wish I could take you out on a date, I would dress nicely and do my hair and everything. And you`ll be looking at me at the theatre. You`ll be thinking about my lips, everytime the couple on the big screen is kissing and I will notice, still acting like I dont, until our hands slightly touch and then...  
I watch you talking to your little daughter Gigi. What a sweet girl. I wish I could help you raise her. I bet she would appreciate having a clown as a daddy. Wouldnt this be fun for every kid? My feelings for you aren`t just sexual attraction. Even though I do dream of you when I am touching myself. I want a family. I want this. Bringing Gigi to scool and pick her up later. Making sure she`s fine. I can`t help but smile when I see the way you put her glasses on. Its all in the details. The love.  
The world is a collection of details. If you miss them you can`t see the whole picture. And I cant deny even though I try some of my own puzzle pieces are missing or just bend in a way they wouldnt fit anymore.  
Caring for someone who appreciates it must be wonderful.  
I look down, standing behind the fence so you won`t see me. Which is beyond ironic because my greatest desire is to be seen by you. Especially by you, Sophie. But I`m the man in the background, because I dont want you to think I´m a stalker. I`m not a stalker. I would never......thats another story but I would never!  
I just need to see you sometimes. To wittness what comfort is. Watching you and your daughter gives me a glimpse of it and it helps me to imagin how my life could have been if there was someone to love.  
I`m hiding underneath my hoodie, my heart is pounding like crazy. Seeing you always gets to me. I`m sweating.  
I follow you to the train station. You`re reading something, looking stunning. I wish you would read me like I was a book of yours. Holding me in your hands, turning the pages, reading between the lines. Touching the old, faded, dusty pages, trying to make out the most faded letters. Letters even I forgotten exist within me. Some words are hard to read but you try and try until you see the whole picture. Until you get the story and what I´m all about. And then you tugg me under your pillow, saying that I`m your favourite book. You dont mind the blacked out parts or the aweful scribbles. You focus on the poetry and the song lyrics and jokes. Like I was beautiful.  
The train is moving forward. Am I? Moving forward?  
I get out when you do, still enough steps behind, so I won`t scare you or give you the wrong impression.  
Another reason why I came here. To see where you are working at. You cross Willliam street and I realize you`re about to walk into the bank. So thats where your working place is.  
Crazy thoughts are running through my head. Things like...What if I just go in there and robb the place? Me and mum could need the money. I won`t hurt anyone. I would just...make them listen. I`ve got some things to tell and I guess people will listen to you when you`re holding a gun.  
I walk behind you with the hands in my pockets, feeling small on those streets. You enter the building and for a second I am frozen. C`mon Arthur you can do this. You will make a good impression to Sophie. She will notice that you`re a good guy. Not hurting anyone. I take one step closer. And another.  
No. I can`t. I can`t do it.  
I take my hoodie of and fix my hair.

The small, red lamps, the lightening. I always liked it here. Pogos is one of my fave places to go. Considering that its a small comedy club in Gotham it doesnt look as shitty at all. I would even say there is a cosy vibe to it. But I still feel uncomfortable, especially because the comedian on stage just pointed out how nice it is to see all these couples at his show. Does it look like there are only couples here? Because there is me, obvioulsy. And I´m sitting right there in the middle, feeling miserable about what he just said. Like he tells all these couples surrownding me how welcome they are, while I´m just there. In the middle but still in the background. Is the lighteining so bad that he can`t see me? Maybe they should change something about the lightening?  
"I have a wife. We love to roleplay...."  
Does he doing this on purpose? Reminding me of everything I do not have? I thought I liked this guy when he came upstage. People appove his look. And he seemed so natural, like all these jokes are just coming to him. But I bet it was hard work figuring them out. I wonder if he also suffers from insomnia, pacing around his room at night, working on jokes and facial expressions? His expressons are real good. Maybe I could learn from him. But I dont know about his jokes. I dont really get them. So I cant even tell if they are good or not.  
Anyway that roleplay thing really sticks to my mind right now. Imagin having a girlfriend who is willing to roleplay with you. I would love to do something like that. I imagin my girlfriend dressing up as a cat lady, with those cute, little ears and a tight black costume...I would caress her body gently and she would lay her head into my lap, purring. There is something so sexy about a beautiful woman dressed as a cat. I fantasize about that a lot. I would also do roleplays for her. I mean I can act, right? I could be anything. A multiple choice.  
He tals about how he acts as the proffessor and his wife is a senior who needs to pass his class. I get this whole thing, like getting involved with your teacher and everything but I still dont get why people are already laughing? Was there a good line I was missing? I try to concentrate, I really do. Okay next time I will laugh with them. Or now. I´m gonna laugh right now. I dont want him to think that I dont find him funny. Thats kinda disrespectful. I can totally imagin how it must feel to be up on stage, telling your own jokes, the ones you worked on the hardest and then seeing this guy at the audience not even laughing at them. I dont want him to experience this. No comedian deserves to be treated like that. I`m sure this guy works hard for his punshlines. Maybe he doesnt even have a wife. Maybe his is all in his mind. The roleplay, the games. Maybe he is lonely like me.  
I was daydreaming. Missing another joke. Laughing people all around me. Thats why I came here. For the laughs. To learn. beside me there is a glass of water. I drank a bit of it. My mouth gets dry when i´m nervous and I am because I just feel that something here isnt quite right. I`m trying so hard to laugh at the same time as the rest of the audience. But I`m always behind. I dont get the timing right. Timing is everything. Especially for a good comedian.  
Timing, timing, timing!  
For gods sake, Arthur.  
Taking some notes, putting on a happy face. Thats very much important too. If I was him I want to see people smiling lookig at me. So I do it. For him. Even though I dont get the joke. I`m getting confused, taking a look across the room to see if they`re about to laugh again. Nothing. Weird because I expected them to.  
I wonder if there is something wrong with my sense of timing or is it just his jokes? Am I out of timing when I`m watching the Murray Franklin show too? I have to make sure I`m not because that would be terrible. As a comedian myself I have to knw when to laugh or not. But i will figure it out.  
Taking a closer look across teh room makes me feel even more disconnected. Not just with his jokes but with everyone in this room. I wish there was someone sitting by my side right now. Sharing this glass of water with me. Looking at me, smiling. Maybe unable to concentrate while staring at me, asuring me that soon I will be the comedian up on stage. Someone beliving in me. Thats all I`m asking for.  
I think I have to start with being a better comedian. People do really like this guy so I should learn from him. I`m taking notes so I won`t forget. I gotta check what I have written till now:

"Work the crowd "  
Some more practice and I will be as good as him. And if you suffer from insonia you surely have a lot of time on your hand to get better!

"Dress nice but casual"  
People will like me more when I`m dressed just as nicely as him. Maybe a vest similar to his. But I prefer dark red instead of his blue one. Red is my fave color. It makes me feel confident. And confidence is important if you`re up on stage. 

"Make observations"  
Ok! I`m already good in this!

"Slick hair???"  
Maybe its time for something new. I will definitely give it a try.

"Eye contact"  
Something I have to work on more, especially when a beautiful girl is in the audience. I tend to get shy a lot and I dont want it to be obvious. 

"Always make funny observations"  
The big question here is how objective everything is. Thats a hard one. Like, what if they dont get the joke?

Sexy jokes always funny  
Okay, that might answer the question. People always laugh about sexy jokes. Its their nature so I have to get better at this.... I`m not good at this subject. Lack of experience I think. Maybe I can think of one tonight. Or about cat ladies. Or both.  
There is a lot of time to think when you never sleep.

Just like expected its one of those nights again. I dont even remember how it feels to sleep anymore. Not that kinda sleep that`s easing your mind. Not for a bit. Just like I dont remember how it is to eat anymore. And I really dont know whats worse. I just wish I could eat a whole meal for once and lie down afterwards, drifting away into sleep. Dreaming of a pretty girl instead of seeing those shadow figures and the guys with their head in the cages. Maybe I`m the guy with the caged head. Trapped inside of my own mind. I`m starving. Not only on the lack of food. I`m touch starved to the very bone.  
Sometimes I surprise myself that I`m still able to have the engery to work all my shifts and stuff. I guess there is still some energy left but I´m not sure where it comes from or what its motivation is. Maybe its because I´m still hoping on something better. Something more. There must be a life outside these four walls. These walls! They`re closing in on me again. This fucking apartment. I wish I could just get out of here ad never come back. Honestly I cant stand the darkness of this place. The dark you can see and the one you can feel. Sitting here alone at my desk at night, with that small lamp burning so I can see the pages of my journal, feels like lying in a bathtub and the water is rising up your throath. Its getting too hot and you just want to stand up and get out, but you cant. So you just give in and let your head sink underwater. Waiting for something to happen. Anything.  
The night is for jokes. I cant work on my jokes at daytime, because mum will distract me with her ever running tv and her neverending questions about Thomas Wayne. How the hell shoudl I be able to concentrate on my purpose then? So I do it now, when insomnia has me in its tight claws. The only touch I have ever known.  
I checked on my notes I wrote down at Pogos. Sexy jokes always funny. So I wrote one. Its not sexy at all, but its about sex so I think people would still be into it.  
"Why did the old man like having insomnia? Because he didnt have to sleep with his wife."  
I hope thats funy enough. Because you never know what goes on in other peoples minds. I sometimes dont even know whats going on inside of my own mind. There are times when I just can`t stand whats up in there and I ask myself if thats something common? Something people do? Disagreeing with themselves? Because it happens to me a lot. Like, something very uncomfortable happens and there is this part of me that thinks its hilarious and I feel this laughter crawling up my throath, while I actually feel the opposite. I wanna stay quiet and calm or I just want to fucking cry because the situation is terrible and tragic and unbearable. But this other part of me just breaks out in laughter and no matter how hard I try to keep it under control. It just makes things worse. So yeah. I disagree with myself a lot. And thats not a good thing to feel. I wanna be at peace with myself.  
Another one  
Why are the poor people always confused? Because they dont make any cents.  
Thats a tricky one right here because its very smart. They dont make and SENSE to the rich people. Rich people dont even wanna try to understand the perspective of the poor. They dont think about how its like to be the other guy. And if you dont try to understand , you wont. And if you won`t understad something, it doesnt make sense to you. Got it? It really is a joke to point out ignorance. And I hope they will get it.

Alright another one. I´m very protuctive tonight.  
What did the crazy man say to the straight jacket? Loosen up a little.

What can I say. I`ve been in one before and I dont get why they dont make it at least a bit looser? Its not like you could use your arms or hands if they did so. I`ve been in and out of the mental hospital for most of my life. And at times when I was younger, I was hurting myself again just to make it out of this room. At least I had my own room there. But still, its no fun at Arkham eihter. People always look down on you if they consider you crazy. Maybe I am but who are they to think they are not? You cant be sure whats going on in the doctors mind, right? Like, the person who gives you the pills could have the most insane mind and you wouldnt even know because they are getting better and better in knowing the rules of how to hide it from others. I dont even wanna hide it. I just want to be accepted. I think if you are trying to hide your mental illness from others, you will just make it harder for yourself. I wnat poeple to love me for who I am. And if I am mentally ill then I am. So the person who loves me has to deal with it. I mean, I have to deal with it myself. Its not like I choosed to be this way. But really, the worst part about having a mental illness are other people. Its not yourself. Its not your own mind torturing you. Its them and how they treat you. How they expect you to hide it so they can feel more comfortable around you. They dont care about how hard it is on you, how much you suffer and how much you actually try to get better. They want you to hide it and when you cant they want to see you in that straight jacket and then they want to see you crazy. As soon as you are locked up they want the whole show. The whole clichee. People are just so small minded. They dont want to see your broken parts but once they saw them they throw you away, telling you this cant be fixed.  
I should write this down so i won`t forget. Maybe Dr Kane has something to think about when she reads it.  
"The worst part about having a mental illness is...."  
i put the pen back and take a deep drag of my cigarette. Trying to concentrate here. Which is hard when you mind gets all blurry out of the sudden. Thinking about how to get this sentence right makes me dive deep into the corners of my mind. So deep I feel something changing. There is something moving inside of me. An awakening. What started as a blurr becomes more and more clear now. I can feel it in my veins, my bones. It starts by taking over my mind, spreading inside of my body. Its like I`m unfolding myself. It reaches my arms. I can feel my body in a way I never experienced it before. It doesnt feel bad. It feels liberating in a way. I feel a mischiveous smirk reaching my lips as I switch to my left hand. I`m usually right handed. So this is a surprise. Does it feel different? It does.  
I feel the pen scratching on the paper. I can actually hear it. Thats how quiet the apartment is.  
"...people expect you to behave as if you don`t".....  
I grin to myself. To the self that I feel emerge.  
My left hand is drawing a smiley.  
No matter how you feel...they always expect you to smile.

I lie on my couch, freezing. We dont have enough money to turn the radiator on every day and the only blankets I`ve got are two thin ones which dont spent very much warmth at night. So yeah, at night its getting awefully cold in here and I wish there was someone under the blankets with me, sharing the heath of our bodies. It wouldnt be be so cold. Especially at heart. I touch the silky fabric of the pajama pants I`m wearing. My left hand is stroking up and down, up and down. Actually its my mothers pants but she doesnt wear them anymore and they`re comfortable. And they fit perfectly since I lost even more weight the past year. I try to forget about that its my own hand playing with the waistband.I imagin it to be Sophies, wishing she would be here right now. She could take this loneliness away and tell me something nice. Maybe something about my jokes or how good it is to see me. Every nice word would warm up my heart really. Anything to show me that she wants to get to know me better. Or even find me attractive. I tried to flirt with her before and I think he got it. Her gestrure in the elevator? I mean its very subtile but thats the mysterie f it all, right? It was her way to tell me that she likes my kind of humor. So I may stand a chance with her after all. Humor is important. If you dont get someones humor you can`t be in a relationship with them. Imagin you`re telling a joke and your girlfriend and she just looks at you with this face expressio that makes it clear that she wouldnt get it. Not even after the second time. That would be a huge turn off for me. I need my girlfriend to think i`m funny because I want to make her hapyp with my jokes and I want to be the reason she smiles in the morning. So after a long, sleepless night of writing jokes I would wake her with a soft kiss upon the forehead, asking her to listen to my latest jokes and she would laugh until her belly aches and kiss me on the lips, telling me how funny I am.  
The doorbell rings.  
In the middle of the night.  
Who would ring my doorbell in the middle of the night? No one even rings it at daytime. I get up from the couch and walk to the door. Mum is still asleep so I guess she havent heard it. Which is weird, she has a light sleep and she usually wakes up from the slightest noise I`m making. I wonder who it could be. I didnt had one of my laughing fits or anything like that so it cant be a neighbor complaining about it. Or did I had one and I don`t rememer it right?  
But then another thing comes to my mind...what if its....  
I open the door.  
Sophie! It really is her!  
I can`t deny I`m still kinda confused about this. I hope I didnt disturb her in any way. I hope she wouldnt complain about how I followed her today. Did she notice? I thought I was good at hiding. Maybe not good enough.  
"Oh...! Hey...." I say and my voice doesnt sound like I hope it would at all. You can hear my confusion and god, I hope it doesnt show in my face,too.  
She looks beautiful as usual, dressed so nicely with her hair done and jewelry around her neck. She must have been out tonight. I wonder where she was. I totally forget that I just opened the door with my mothers pajama pants on and my greasy hair.  
"Hey!" she says "Were you following me today?" So straight forward, Sophie. I like that. But I gotta admit you`re making me a bit insecure about how to react here.  
"Yeah?" I reply. Not sure what she would say next. I hope I didnt leave the wrong impression.  
"I thought that was you."  
Okay, okay. So she wasnt sure . She didnt saw me but she felt me. Thats interesting. Maybe she wished it was me when she felt like someone followed her. Like "I feel someones eyes on me. I wish it was that cute neighbor that lives down the hall." Something like that. I see I might really have a chance with her. Maybe I should ask her out on a date.  
"I was hoping you`d come in and rob the place" she adds.  
I feel myself smiling. The way I often try to but it seldom works. She really said that, didnt she? Sophie is even more adorable that I thought she was. If thats her kind of humor we will match perfectly. I mean, come on this joke could have been one of mine!  
Its almost like I just played this conversation out in my head. Its too perfect to be true. But hey, even I have to get lucky sometimes. i hope I`m not wrong here.  
Better say something smart now.  
"I have a gun" I`m pointing over my shoulder. Its there somewhere on my table. "...I could by tomorror".  
That was a good one. I`m proud of myself. Waiting for her reaction.  
Sophie chuckles. her eyes are lightening up in the prettiest way. I`m so in love with her. She looks at me like no one else ever did before. Maybe she is the one who understands me. Sharing the same humor is a great start.  
"You`re so funny, Arthur!" she smiles.  
There, she said it.  
She thinks I`m funny. This means so much to me but I try not to let it show. I dont want it to be obvious that I never had a girlfriend before. Not now. I will tell her at a later point. On date when teh moment feels right.  
"Yeah..." I breathe, a bit overwhelmed by being so lucky tonight. I look down, feeling like I`m about to blush.  
C`mon Arthur. Show her taht you`re a cool guy. Tell her about your career.  
"You know. I do stand up comedy" I look her in the eyes "You should maybe come see a show sometime."  
Sophie doesnt even thiink twice "I could do that".  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah. You let me know when?"  
She really wants to see me perform. For a second there is this doubt in my mind. I tend to dream a lot. Not just dreams but....nevermind. I dont wanna give this a second thought ight now. Sophie was ringing my doorbell in teh middle of the night, telling me all these things and thats what counts. I won`t let my mind play tricks on me, trying to convince me this isnt real. My mind played tricks on me before.  
"Yeah" I add, feeling confident about teh fact taht I just asked her out on a date.  
Sophie turns around to get into her apartment. I watch her walking down the hallway. Checking once more on how beautiful she is, before I close my door and walk into the kitchen to make myself a coffee. There won`t be any chance to sleep tonight anyway.

Childrens hospital  
Doctor of laughter  
Name: Dr Arthur  
Department: Laughology  
Speciality: Baloons

Ironic when you think about it. If not even funny.  
They call me doctor of laughter here. Not knowing that I needed to visit the doctors because of my laughter for so many times in my not so funny life. Or maybe it was funny, if you have a really dark sense of humor.  
But well those kids here in the cancer ward don`t knwo about this and I`m glad they don`t. They shouldnt know that Dr Arthur is more of a patient himself as he is a doctor. My work name as a partyclown is Carnival but the guy who printed my card just used my real name which is also fine because it always melts my heart when one of the kids calls me Dr Arthur. It just feels so personal and makes me feel needed. Like I`m truly fulfilling my purpose here. Maybe I didnt managed to bring laughter and joy to this world, not even to Gotham but here in this hospital room the magic is happening. I`m the man I want to be. Here in this small room, filled with these kids who know what suffering and lonelyness means I can do something right. Here in this ward I`m living my dream. Making people happy. The kids just know and feel taht this is who I am and why I am here for. they feel it. And they need to feel it because they need a moment of happiness just as much as I do.  
I look at their faces and you can tell that tehy have been through so much. I just want to give them a glimpse of joy. Even if its not inside of myself, especially because it isnt. But seeing them smile, even for just a second makes me think that i felt it too. For a small moment there was this glimmer inside. The taste of doing something that has a purpose.  
I wonder how many of them are lonely. Not just now here at the hospital but when they`re at home. I wonder if any of those kids feels abandoned by their parents like I did. Or worse. I wonder if any of them will come up to me some day and say "Dr Arthur. I need someone to talk to."  
I look at their faces and wonder if tehy are loved by their families. And I hope they are, wondering how they will feel when they`re back home. Sometimes I felt saver in a hospital bed. Which tells so much about life at home. I hope none of these kids feels better here than with their families. I look at each one of the faces. Trying to take a look behind the tiredness that comes with the chemo and everything. Do they look like they areren`t loved by their family? How did I look as a kid? Could you tell?  
I love the way they look at me while I am doing my little performance to "If you happy when you know it". It is so much easier to make kids smile. I`d love to have kids myself one day. I´ll be the clown daddy. Just imagin my child`s friends would go "What you daddy is a clown? For real? Tahts so cool. He should come visit us on our birthday!" And of course I would be there and do their make up so all kids on teh party would be clowns and tahts just too adorable to think of.  
Yeah I sometimes do dream about that but thats another story. I dont think I will be a dad in the near future. But maybe I could be something close to a dad to Sophies daughter Gigi.  
"If you happy and ou know it wiggle your ears" I touch my ears and move my lips to the music that plays from the cassette player . Sometimes I also sing along for real because I couldnt help it. I have a thing for singing and dancing. Some of the kids touch their ears too. Some others sing the lyrics. And some are just too shy or weak to do more than just sit and watch. I try my best to look at everyone of them. No child should feel left out. Thats another really important thing for me,too. To not let any kid feel ignored. Ignorance is hell and I dont want to do this to anyone. Imagin there is this one really shy kid in the corner and you almost didnt notice because you are distracted by the other kids who are closer to you, singing. And the next night this kid might lie awake in the hospital bed, wondering why Dr Arthur, the friendly clown wouldnt even look him or her in the eyes. I just cant stand this thought. So I look at each one of them every single time. Try to animate them. I wanna be a good memory.  
"If you happy and you know it and you really wanna show it...."  
The word happy can be a trigger for me. Because thats the name my mum gave to me. The most unfit name in the world.  
"....if your happy and you know it wiggle your ears" I turn to the kid sitting on the chair beside me and knee down. The doctor standing by the window is looking at the kids face. I guess it feels good to her to see the kid smile, finally. It made her grin too.  
This makes me feel energetic like, I really get lost in my little dance for a second. Wearing the white hospital clothes felt weird in the beggining. They reminded me of Arkham and I asked the doctors if I really have to put them on. But they explained to me that this has a good effect on the kids. Like, they feel like I am one of them when wearing the same clothes and I coudnt say no to that.  
"If you`re happy and you know it stomp your feet...." I turn to the other side, spinning around, lift my hands up in the air. Even the other doctor has joined singing. This job is the only thing in my life that I dont hate.  
".....If your happy and you know it and you really want to show it , if you happy and you know it stomp your feet."  
I do. I do stomp my feet. Forgetting that I keep the gun under my clothes.  
It makes a noise falling right to my feet. My reaction is fast. I remember this trick when comediany try to pick something up and it just keeps slipping away. Maybe I can make it lok like a part o my act.  
This wasnt planned or was it? Is there any chance I thought this would be funny when I left the house to go to work? Why did it fell out so easily?I can`t remember.  
Anyway, I pick op the gun and hide it under the hospital clothes, acting like I`m a bit embarrassed but gigglelish about what happened. I press my index finger to my lips and chuckle. Most of the kids look more than surprised, but then there is this lttle girl standing right in front of me is forming her hand to a gun and points it at me. I really like her.

Half an hour later I find myself in a phone booth taking to my chef. No good news are on the way.  
"Hoyt, please! I love this job!"  
I mean this as I say it. This job is making me leave my couch in the morning. Knowing that there are sad faced kids I can make laugh again. I even try to ignore my workmates bullying me and all. I just want to go to hospitals and kids partys and be Dr Arthur or the birthday surprise. He cannot take this away from me. He just has to belive that this wasnt a real gun. I wish Randall wouldnt have given it to me in the first place. I just knew that this is not going to end well. Why did he do this to me? Is this what he intended? Was this Randalls plan all along? getting me fired by knowing that something would happen involving the gun?  
Hoyt asks me why I brought a gun into the kids hospital and I explain to him that its a prob, a part of my act now. he doesnt belive me, raises his voice. "Thats bullshit, bullshit. What kinda clown carries a fucking gun? Besides Randall told me you tried to buy a 38 off him last week."  
I knew it. I just knew there was something up with Randall giving me his gun. Him claiming I tried to buy it off him is proof enough. Its all lies. All lies. As if I would have wanted this damn thing. I told him I`m not supposed to have a gun and he still gave it to me, claiming to be worried about me being attacked out on the steets. Nice try, Randall. I bet you hoped I would kill myself with it by accident. But losing my job is just as good for you. Now you dont have to deal with my laughter anymore.  
"Randall told you that?"  
I cant belive this is happening right now. I cant belive he is beliving in Randalls words instead of what I am trying to tell him.  
"You`re a fuck up, Arthur. And a liar. You`re fired!"  
Hoyt hangs up the phone.  
This is a nightmare. The only good thing I had in my lufe just ended.  
I put my head to the cold glass of the phone booth and bang it against it. The glass is cracking. I know there is a sharp pain but I can`t even feel it.

The subway is moving forwards, while everything inside of me is standing still. Frozen. Numb even. The numbness takes over me, exept for the real bad headache I got from banging my head against the glass in the phone cell. I shouldnt have done that. Hurting myself. But sometimes I just cant help it. Sometimes the sadness turns into anger and I dont want to hurt anyone, so I punish myself instead of anyone else. Instead of the people that hurt me all my life. I just sit there and take it, and try to cry my eyes out afterwards, but I cant even do that.

There is something wrong with me. I do know that. And sometimes I hate myself for this. I guess thats why people don`t feel comfortable around me. Because thay think there is something wrong with me. But if they only would LISTEN and take a close LOOK. They would notice that I`ve got a lot to say, even if I don`t say much. I would love to talk a lot actually, but I gave that up when I realized that people won`t listen anyway. I prefer to write in my jornal nowdays. Its saver for me. My journal can`t missunderstand me. At least I hope so.

But yeah… if only they would give me the chance to EXPLAIN myself. They would notice that I`m a good guy. But they won`t. To them it doesnt matter how big my heart is or how lonely I actually am. I do write my jokes for OTHER people. To make THEM happy. To be SEEN as someone who can make others happy. But they remain unheard. My jokes are only scribbles in my journal. At least up until now. I`ve got the feeling that change is about to come. Like….I can feel soemthing growing inside of me. Not sure what it is though. Its just a gut feeling.

I look outside the window. Some graffitys on the glass cover half of my reflection. Half of my face, a blurr. Funny because thats how I feel right now. I notice how sad I look. A sad eyed clown sitting on the subway. I can`t smile for anyone today. Not now. Not after Hoyt fired me. How could I ever tell my mum when I get home? I just told her that she shouldt worry about money, or me. That my stand ups are ready for the big clubs. And now I got nothing left. Not even my job, which I loved. Mum and I didnt had much money but it was enough to get us through. What now? Mum will be so dissappointed in me. I wanna make her proud. I wanted her to see her son up stage. I`m a great stand up comedian. I just know it. And its time for them to notice. It was all Randalls fault. He gave me the gun. Without the fucking gun, I wouldnt have gotten fired. Maybe that was Randalls plan all along. He wanted to get rid of me by giving me the gun. Eighter by me killing myself by accident (the fucking thing was loaded when he gave it to me and he didnt said so) or by getting caught with it, which just happened. Great job, Randall. Your plan was succesful. Too bad I didnt killed myself with it. But its not too late for that, right?

I turn around and face the other side of the subway. People are getting out and three other guys are getting in, talking about a girl they danced with. The conversation caught my attention. Sounds like they were at a dance club or something. I`ve never been at one, so I try to hear all the details about how a normal guy would manage to make out with a girl. I really could need some good advice on that. But after a few seconds I realize that the guys must be drunk. One of them claims that the girl wanted to get closer to him, but the other one laughed at him.

It was now that I realized that there was still a girl sitting there. “Want some french fries?” one of the drunk guys tries to hand her his bag of fries , waving with it, trying to get her attention “Helloooo?” The girl looks annoyed “No, thank you”. “They`re real good!” he says, before throwing food at her. “C`mon” the other one says “He`s being nice to you”.

The girl just wants to read her book. Why would they even bother her? I take a look at the cover. Alice in wonderland. I like that. Alice knew how to create a world of her own. reality couldnt bother her anymore.

I get nervous, noticing that she makes eye contact with me. I guess she wants me to say something to them. To step in and tell them to leave her the fuck alone. The friendly clown would help. And I want to. I want to step in so bad. I want to get up to those guys and tell them to fuck off. To leave the girl alone with her book and imagination. But my body won`t let me. I am frozen. My legs won`t move. I`m just sitting there. What kinda man am I, to not help her out? Just a sad clown on the subway. Nothing more. All I wanna do is cry. I`m crying on the inside.

And there it comes….. hmmm haha. I shake my head. No. please not now. Not in front of her and those idiots. But I cant hold it. The urge to cry, the feeling of being uncmfortable gets too big. Hahahahahaah. The laughter.Its making it way through again. I want it to stop! At the same time there is something inside of me that acually thinks that this is funny. Those drunk idiots trying to impress a girl by throwing french fries at her and I`m actually hoping to learn something here when they came in. Hahahhaha. What a joke.

I can tell that I already caught their attention as they look over on me while my laughter gets bad. Real bad.

“Is something funny, asshole?” one of them is yelling at me. I try to tell him that he should ignore my laughter by gestures, but he doesnt get it. I guess I even managed to make the girl being scared of me. She walks pass us, disappearing, as the guys throw stuff at her “Bitch!”

Hahahahhahahah. I reach the point of pain right now. In my throath from trying to stop the laughing. In my heart from trying to understand why I am laughing.

And just as the pain starts to burn on my insides, the guy comes up to me, starting to sing “Isnt it rich? Are we a pair? Me here at last on the ground. You in mid air. Send in the clowns.” With every step he comes closer I get flashbacks from getting bullied at scool. The look in his face. in his eyes. I know that kinda look. He`s a bully. And I`m his victim. He makes fun of me. Nothing new I know. But that song…it really gets me. I love Frank Sinatra. His music means so much to me. It hurts that this guy is using it against me.

“Isnt it bliss. Dont you appprove?One who keeps tearing around, one who cant move?”

Yeah….thats right……hahahahhaah I CANT move while you are dancing around like an idiot. Hurting me. Do you have any idea how much you are hurting me? Look at my face. I´m hurt. I`m in pain. But people never notice and you keep on dancing. YOU are the one who is laughing. Not me. I`m crying. And I have to listen to your bad interpretation of Send in the clowns. You can`t even get a tune right.

“Send in the cloooooowwwnnnsss” he sings, while one of the other two is sitting down next to me in an intimitating way, grabbing my Carnival wig, exposing my real hair, while I cant stop laughing with pain in my eyes.

“There ought to be CLOOOOOOOWWWWNNSSS…..” the first one looks at me in anger, the second one putting my wig on, laughing right into my face. I can smell the alcohol in his breath. The way he laughs at me. So rude. Just like back in scool. I`m back in scool. This is a nightmare. Why would they want to hurt me? Don`t they realize I just want to be left alone? I wish they would go away. But I guess I dont deserve someone stepping in for me. I didnt when they bothered the girl. There is no one else with us anyway.

“So tell us buddy. Whats so fuckin funny?”

“Nothing”. Finally my chance to explain myself" I will tell them about my condion and they will leave me alone.

Hahahhahahah “I have….I have a condition” I try to catch my breath. Its so hard to breathe, so hard to talk between the laughs. my hand reaches for the card. They have to read it. So they know. “I´ll tell you what you have, asshole” he replies, grabbing my bag. I try to get it back, but the other guy stands up and holds me back. Grabbing me violently from behind, while the first one tries to attack me. I cant belive this is happenening. I just wanted to show them my card, so they would understand why I was laughing.Why would they hurt me?

I cant use my arms so I kick the one who`s standing in front of me. I`m shocked I have to do this but I`m afraid I will get beaten up again. I still got bruises from the last time.

“We got a kicker, huh?” he says. “Hold him steady, hold him steady” he screams, right fore he punshes me in the face so hard that the other one lets go of me and I fall to the hard floor. Lying there with a sharp pain that makes its way althrouh my body. I lie on my right side. My ribs hurt´. My head is pounding. Ma hand touches the dirty subway floor. Is this real? Why is this happening? I cant move. I always fall back into freezemode when I get beaten up. I just cant do anything but take it like a good boy.

“Stay down,freak!“

They kick me in the back. Hard. Harder. All three of them now. 

For a moment I am afraid they will kick me to death. Three guys and some clown, frozen on the floor? I could definitaly die in here and no one will ever know. I`m not afarid of dying. But this isnt how I want to go. Not on the floor. Not while getting kicked by some assholes. They would step over my dead body and I would lie there, invisible. People stepping over me. No. I cant let them do this to me. Its time to defend myself.

Is this my inner voice talking? The one I use to hear a lot? The one that wrote in my journal? Is this the blurry part of my reflection? It could be. I dont even care.

But I feel myleft arm moving. I´m not frozen anymore. I remember the gun. The fucking gun Randall gave to me. The weapon that brought me nothingbut trouble. Maybe this thing will be good for something eventually. Maybe it will save my life. Well Randall. Sorry for ruin your plan.

Those guys will get what they deserve now.

Bang! Bang!

That was fast. One is already on the ground.

Bang! Bang!

I never thought it could be so easy to defend yourself.

The other ones falling against the subway door.

There is blood. But there is no time to take a look at it. The third one tries to run away as I fire the gun one more time. I only caught his leg. He tries to run away, liping, as I grab my stuff, trying to catch my breath. To get my thoughts straight. The gun in my hand. God. there is a gun in my hand. Still. For a brief moment I seem to lose all orientation. Did i just killed someone? What should I do now? What about the third one? My mind is all over the place.

I watch him banging against the doors, running out of the subway as they open. He really thinks he can get away. I hide behind the door , but he tries to escape. What else could he do? I´m right behind him. I have the gun. I am not the victim today. One more shot. He falls to the ground.

How does it feel there, on the dirty ground? Can you taste it? I did.

Can you feel the cold concrete against your aching bones? Because I did.

You killed me first.

Every single one of you bullies.

You killed my hopes and dreams. My heart.

My innocence.

This is what you finally get.

Do you see me now?

Can you feel, that I am real?

Because I am.

And so is this gun.

I ran up close to him as he lets out screams, trying to crawl closer to the stairs.

No one heard MY whimpers when I thought I was dying in the alley.

I fire the gun. Bang Bang Bang. Until there are no bullets left. Until he doesnt move anymore.

Freeze mode, huh? How does it feel?

One who keeps tearing around. One who cant move.

And then… silence.

Exept the noise in my ears. I take a short look at the body lying in front of me. He`s really dead. Kinda surprising what a gun can do.

I press my hand against my ears. That noise. I hope there will be music again, soon.

I take a look around. No one is there. Time to grab my stuff and get gone.

I ran up the stairs as fast as I can and feel myself changing with every step I take, with every short breath I become something.

There is a glow inside, as I run into an unknown desitination, my shadow ahead of myself

I run and run and run, trying to focus on anything. To catch a clear thought. But there is just this pure instinct in me that tells me to find a hiding place. Somewhere to catch my breath. A place where I can take a moment to make sense of this. To feel what just happened. Because right now I feel too much and when you feel too much at once its the same as if you dont feel anything. Too much of it just makes you go numb. And I am close to that so I have to just stop and breathe somewhere.  
The only place I can think of is the public bathroom around the corner. So my feet are bringing me there. I´m glad I`m not wearing my clown shoes anymore. That would have made me a lot slower. I`m not even sure if anyone is chasing me or if anyone saw me. I wasnt seeing anything except that guy trying to escape. But I couldnt have let him go. I had to finish this. I had to bring this to an end.  
I get into the bathroom and slam the door behind me, leaning against it, trying to breathe. My lungs feel like tehy`re about to explode. And I`m not sure if this comes from the running or from the panic.  
The green lights from the ceiling are flickering, which creates an atmosphere of surrealism. It kinda represents my life. This green flickering light that`s trying to overcome the dark in an unreal world. But its both there simultaneously. The light and the dark. Reality and whaever is the opposite of that. What is the opposite of reality? Is it a dream or a hallucination? A thought? A memory? If you can`t trust a thought then in what can you trust? because you are thinking all the time. And if you cant trust a dream. Where should you go to at night to escape all the lies? And if you cant trust a memory, how could you possibly know who you are?  
You can even hear it if you listen closely. But my heavy breathing is muting it a lot. I concentrate on it. On my breathing. I`m alive. I´m alive and I feel it. I feel it in a way I`ve never felt it before. Its a different way to feel alive. Like an awakening rising inside of me. I dont` knwo if it feels good or bad, its just there and it keeps growing.  
And then the music starts to set in.  
My hands are still touching the door as my foot starts to move. I can`t hear my breathing anymore. It eighter has become calmer or the music in my head is too loud to hear myself breathe. I put my foot in front of the other. Half a circle.  
I dont know where the music comes from. It was always there. I remember certain situations in my life when I just wanted to mute out the rest of the world and then the music set in to keep me in a world of my own. My escape room. The music is a way to feel myself. Through the music in my mind I can feel my body. I can feel like its all connected. Even when I feel disconnected from the outside world. Me and The music are one. We exist in this room together. In this hiding place where there is no one else but us. Me, the music and whatever or whoever is rising inside of me.  
I can`t do anything but to give in to it. To what is there, demanding its power. My body obeys. It frees itself from the tension and panic I felt minutes before. Frees itself some te trembling sensation of fear. Its just flows and is.  
I am.  
I`m the orchestra vibrating through my muscles, the melodies running through my veins. red as the remains of blood on y chin. The blood of a stranger.  
I`m the violin and the hand who holds it. I`m the whisper in my head, saying you will be reborn. You will be stronger. You will be tranformed.  
And I give in to this transformation with everything thats within me. I embrace it, I`ll become it.  
My hands are floathing through the air. It is as if I`m watching myself from the inside. I`m moving gracefully, feeling weightless. This is my liberation. My destination. My way to the inside. To the very core. The most hidden corners of my subconciousness. This is me on my way to myself.  
Its rising and rising and I`m all there but I´m not. As one part is rising another part vanishes. And I hold on to it but let it go. I let it vibrate throuch my bones one last time. I try to be aware of what happens to me right now. But I`m not my thoughts anymore. I`m becoming pure emotion. Pure energy and it emerges with every movement, every melody of this tagically beautiful piece of music.  
Something inside of me wishes for an audience. People should wittness this. But I`m the only one in the room. I wittness myself coming out of my cocoon. And I´m flyin high. Taking action freed me.  
Something just changed inside.  
I take a look in the mirror. Finally I see myself. I am all there but I`m not.  
Spreading my arms for the audience that is my new self.

I find my new self in the elevator. I`ve been here before. Day afetr day after day. The bell is just a dejavu to me.  
But today is different. I`m walking down the hallway. Everything inside of my is vibrating to the new found confidence.  
How many time has passed since I got out of the bathroom? I`m losing it. I`m losing sense of time again but it doesnt matter.  
Nothing does matter but how it feels to be me right now. Because it never felt like this and I like it. I`m holding on to this fire burning in my heart. Its burning for the sake of myself. For the first time in my life I didnt let them take me down today. For the first time in this endless timeloop of tragedy and sorrow I manged to defend myself. And now that I did, I wonder why it has taken me 35 years to do so. It was so easy. Spo easy taking the gun and just pull the trigger. I always thought it would be easy to pull it while I`m pointig it at myself. Just a twitch of the finger and I`m free.  
My finger was twitching. And I am free. But I wasnt pointing at myself.  
And finally I feel like maybe, just maybe it was the right desicion to put it at them instead of myself. The part of me that thinks I am allowed to defend myself has been awakened. And now it`s here and you can`t stop it. You can`t kick me to the ground anymore. You heard it? You can`t make my body freeze anymore while you try to beat me to death. Because finally I am able to move.  
While walking down the hallway I feel my body posture has changed. I`m walking straight with my head up high. I wear the fake smirk like it is my own. The painted on mask is no longer a lie anymore because underneath that there is a hint of a grin. Maybe not obvious enough for you to see but its there, sleepig underneath. Until someone wakes it. Its waiting for something to happen.  
Its not time to go home yet. There is something I have to do. Someone who has to see my new found self. Sophie. Oh, my lovely Sophie. I will show you. I will make you feel my love.  
I throw my jacket on the floor. Every step closer to her door feels right. Step, step,step. I`ve never felt so light. My body is not dragging me down anymore. My body is not a cage, not a burden anymore.  
The music is getting louder. Its demanding and intense. An inevitable event of power locked inside of my mind.  
I knock on her door. Again and again. I know what I want.  
She opened the door with such surprise on her face, shocked but pleased to see my face. Candles are burning in the background of her apartment. Nice. I want this to be special. I`m a romantic at heart. Look at me, baby. That smile I`m wearing- it`s for you.  
I dont hesitate to take her face between my hands. Gently, like she deserves to be touched. I need her to feel how much i am in love with her. How much I have to give. Its a lot. Its not just anger that accumulated inside of me all these years. Its also love. More than anything. Love with all its power and beauty. I need to get it out. I need to share it.  
Skin feels so good underneath my fingertips. Her beautiful face hold by the palms of my loving hands. Oh how many nights these hands longed to feel her skin like that. I felt it a thousand times in deams. Is it? Is it a dream?  
I put my smirk to her lips. Tasting her. Sophies lipstick mixes with mine as I put my arm around her waist. She wraps her arms around my neck. I knew she wanted me,too. My body is screaming out to be loved. So as my soul. Everything that is me. I support myself on the wall as I fall into her arms. She welcomes me, allowes my kiss. She`ll never know this is my first kiss. My first time being this intimate with someone. Feeling her soft,fleshy lips on mine. She is melting under my touch as the music keeps playing. And I want her and want her and want her so bad. I wonder how it will feel to be so close to someone. Soon I will know how it feels to be skin on skin. To be inside someone elses body. To be wanted in return. I need her to whimper my name with love in her eyes. Arthur. I wonder how it will sound like escaping her shaking lips. I wil make her breathless.  
If I was able to defend myself today anything is possible. Even being loved.

The pocket mirror is reflecting my face. Did it change in the slightest? Is it stil the same face it always was without the make up? Or is there somethig different to it now? Is there a glimpse that shows the changes on the inside? Can they tell? Does anyone know anything? Or is it still the face of the invisible man? Still just one face in the crowd. And not even that anymore when standing alone. Faceless. A faceless existence of an invisible man. Maybe thats why I love wearing make up. To make me face visible to others. And show them what they want to see. A smile.  
I`m not smiling, my face is resting in a state of being in deep thoughts. I always am. In deep thoughts I mean. Deep is an understatement really. They are making their way into the very core. My thoughts are the very core of my so called existence. Is it even called existence? Because no one ever told me that, No one ever came up to me saying "hey Arthur, I`m glad that you exist!" No one ever told me "Fuck. I just hate that you exist." eighter. So if no one loves and no one hates you, you are just..... a thought inside of your own head. You don`t exist outside yourself.  
The mirror may show my face but it doesnt proof anything. So i am not even looking. My eyes arefocused on the inside of my locker and waht will go into the trash or into my brown paper bag next. First the mirror. The last thing its surface wittnessed was my face being unable to even look into it. I`m too afaraid of what I might see. Or what I dont see anymore. I`m not sure which fear is worse.  
An empty make up pallette, a sponge, a set of cards, my hopes and dreams.  
My ex workmates discuss over the news. If that man that killed the three guys on the subway was eighter wearing full make up or a mask.  
I`m alone. Standing in the coner of the changing room, and I know. I have all the answers to their questions and for a second I just wish they would know that this guy they talk about is right among them. That mysterious guy that is "Good for bussiness because they got clowns on the front of every newspaper ." Glad I could help with your fucking business, even now after I got fired. Maybe that was the best I`ve ever done for this place. That thing I didnt even intented to do. But I did and now you can all go on and discuss every single detail without knowing anything because you are being as blind and ignorant and stupid as usual.  
But guess what? My eyes just started to open now. If I can defend myself by shooting these assholes on the subway, yo can`t bully me here at HaHas anymore. Especially not on my last day. Now that I empty this locker.  
My locker. Yeah I can`t deny I am a little bit emotional over that. But not because of this building or this room or anyone here. Okay there is Gary. He`s a kind soul but that was it. This room.....nothing but bad memories of me sitting in the corner, not being talked to, me sitting on that bank, staring outside the window until I lose all sense of time, waiting for a beam of sunlight coming through, me doing my make up day after day after day and they keep chattering but they don`t say anything. Nothing that has meaning. And I´m painting on that smile, trying to find something meaningful, something real. A moment of truth. But you can`t find it here and I couldnt find it within myself.  
Not until I did that.  
Killing those guys. It was a moment of truth.  
The very first moment in my entire life I choose to act. For myself. I choose to be more than the guy thats being kicked around . More than the invisible man. The none existend. You can`t get killed by someone who doesnt exist? Right? So maybe there is one way to proof after all.  
"Hey Arthur. I`ve heard what happened. Sorry, mate!"  
Gary. Yeah he`s the only one who never joined bullying me. Maybe because he knows how it feels when others are making fun of you. I feel sorry for him that he has to work in such a shitty place with such shitty people. He deserves better. But even though he says he cares there is no real goodbye. No hug or anything. Which makes me a bit sad. I would have prefered to hug him and tell him to take care. Its just sad. A smirk is crossing my face.  
"Yeah, doesnt seem fair" Randall says while he is doing his make up. The tone in his voice is disgusting. You can tell that he is glad that I`m gone. This was what he intented all the time. I try to stay calm as the anger is staring to grow. I`m throwing the rest of the stuff over my shoulders, I dont even care about if I would need this anytime soon. Who knows if I ever find a job as a clown again? As bad as these guys are. I loved being a party clown. I loved this job. the emotions I feel while getting all my stuff out of this locker are about the kids I visited at hospitals and birthdays. Thats what I will miss. I dont know what to do now. Without this job, there is no one left to make them smile. Its not just a job I lost here. Its so much more.  
One of the guys is asking me if I really brought a gun to a childrens hospital. And why I did it. I take the horn honk, my paper bag and go my way.  
Yeah I did. I brought that gun because I was carrying it everywhere. because you are not save in this fucking town. Not even on your way home to take care of your sick mother dressed as a party clown.  
"Is that part of your new act Arthur? If your dancing doesnt do the trick you`re just gonna shoot yourself?" The stipper asks.  
Maybe. Maybe this will be the final act after all. Shooting myself in front of an audience is something I should consider. At least it would make them watch.  
You can`t look away if a clown just shot himself right in front of your eyes. You gotta look and it will hurt a little, seeing his smile still lingering on his lifeless lips. Remember it. remember him as someone who wanted to make you smile but you wouldnt have let him, so he decited that this would be his final smile to the world.  
I turn around "Why dont you ask Randall about it? It was his gun!" Randall looks at me with a mixture of shock and anger on his face. "What?"  
Can`t handle the truth, huh? Gotta deal with it MY BOY!  
"I still owe you for that dont I?" I point at him and he doesnt like it.  
"What the fuck are you talking about?" he takes two steps towards me. But I turn around and leave. Not cool to play the innocent one, Randall. Not cool. We both know what you did. Just go and tell them.  
"Stop talking out o your ass, Art" he adds.  
I squeeze the honking horn before I throw it over my shoulder. I can feel Randall coming closer. Watching me as I walk away. Suddenly it feels good to leave this place. I hated being lonely among people in this room every morning. I hated hearing their voices and laughs and all the smalltalk tehy did without even looking at me for once. I hated Randall and the way he was picking on Gary. I hated this fucking stripper for being such an arrogant prick. I hated Hoyt for reminding me of my teacher back in scool. Maybe I will just continue being a clown without all of this shit. Maybe I`ll become a better version of a clown now that i am free of you. There is this money problem now but I will figure it out. Maybe I´ll find a new job as a bartender or I´ll just go my way and rob the pharmacy.  
Now that I realize how much I hated it here I have to blow off some steam.  
I gasp "Oh no!" a step back and another "I forgot to punsh out!"  
One last look into their faces before I punch the clock with my fist until it falls off the wall. It feels good to see it lying there on the ground. This is my big fuck you to everyone looking at me right now. Why is it that now you can look at me as I go?  
I laugh as I turn around.  
The radio is playing a song that mentions my clown name. This kind of concidence doesnt exist. Carnival is leaving the building but he is stilll there. A melodie stuck in their heads now Haunting them. The radio knows. Music always knows. Music knows your secrets. Who else knows about me? The invisible man is rising.  
".....and turns to sorrow....king of all hear me call, hear my name is Carnival....."  
I go down the stairs with an edding pen in my right hand. The bright yellow "Don`t forget to smile" sign reminds me of the day I got beaten up by those kids. This is not a place for real smiles. This is a place for fake smiles being painted on every morning. Painted onto sad, angry and worn out faces.  
I cross out the words "Forget to" so now it says "Dont smile". Much better. Much more realistic for HaHas. Now you can look at this everytime you leave, just like I had to look at the original version every day.  
"I dance down the rest of the stairs. My name is Carnival keeps playing. keeps telling me that people finally know who I am. I kick the door open and there is light. 

Making food for mum is always a bit complicated. Much to think of, because there are always two questions: Should I put some sleeping pills in her oath meal or not? And if yes how many? I check and notice that I am running out of meds. Shit.  
But the plan for today is:  
Visiting Dr Kane, going to the pharmacy afterwards and then go to Pogos.  
Today`s not a usual visit at the comedy club. Today will be my day! I will tell my own jokes up on stage. I`m no longer the lonely man sitting alone on his table with a glass of water in the middle of the room. I will be the star up there and people will have a good laugh. Even Sophie. And I just know she will be there to see me. I hope she will get my humor and maybe she`ll like me even more afterwards. I would love to leave Pogos together, take her out on a date, have a coffee or something. Talking about how I write my jokes and what inspires me to write them. How it feels like when the funny thoughts cross my mind and how much of it is hard work and how much just comes to me. Maybe she`ll be interested in that after watching my performance. Interested in me. I`ve heard that humor is important in a relationship and that woman prefer men with a good sense of humor. So maybe I will have a chance after all.  
I dont hesitate to take the last two sleeping pills and crash them to mix it in my mother`s bowl. No way I would give her the chance to ruin my afternoon. Evverything is planned out and I know she woould freak or do something unexpected as soon as she watches me leaving the house all dressed up. She would make a big scene as soon as I`m coming home after a long night out. And I just don`t have the nerves to deal with her shit. Besides that, it`s not good for her health to get all excited or angry about something. So a little sleep will help us both.  
"Happy look, Thomas Wayn`s on TV" My mothers voice echoes through the living room. her voice always feels like an echo to me. Because its always the same words filling the room, over and over again. Crashing against the heavy walls without a sound but her thin voice "Happy Happy Happy. Thomas Wayne. " Two words that make my ears bleed in one sentence. How does she do that? It`s getting worse. Her voice just makes me feel bad sometimes. I really do care about mum a lot but some days I feel triggered by her talking and I don`t know why.  
"Yes mother!" I try not to sound annyoed. Not that she would ever notice if I was. Or hurt. She never does. Mum would have made a common therapist. Just sitting there, repeating the same three sentences for years while looking right through you.  
Mum as a therapist would be like:  
"Thomas Wayne will be major soon. How does that make you feel? Thomas Wayne does have some enemies lately. Does that change your own opinion on him? Did you noticed how skinny you are? Thomas Wayne gained some weight instead of losing it . How do you feel about that? Are you sad today, Happy? "  
And of course all my answers would also echo through the room. Unheard and without making a sound while crashing through the windows. My answer would be "Happy was always sad. Every minute of his life. How does that make you feel?"  
I get the bowl and crash the rest of the pills. My wet hair is sticking to my neck. I`m freezing a little bit while wearing my pj pants only . It`s always cold in here. This apartment represents peoples hearts.  
"They`re asking him about those horrible subway murders" she says.  
What? Oh my god. This got my attention. Now I notice that I wasnt paying attention to the news for the whole time. Somehow it didnt cross my mind that there will be something about me on the news anytime soon. I was wrong!  
They thank Wayne for being here, in these difficult times. Difficult for who? For him? As if he would care about what happened or about anyone who isn`t like him. As if some dead guys on the subway would effect him personally. Does he know what it means to have a difficult life at all? I`m aware of the fact that money doesnt solve all problems. I dont even think about money. I think about so many other things Thomas does have and he is nothing but an arrogant prick about, looking down on others.  
I leave the kitchen and make my way to the couch "Why him?" I ask, placing her bowl of food on teh table.  
Why is Thomas the one talking about the three dead guys anyway?  
"Looks like he gained weight" .  
I knew she would ignore my question and care about his looks instead. Seriously, sometimes I get teh feeling like she has a crsh on him or something. There must be a reason for her fixation on this man.  
"Yes all three worked for Wayne investments. Good, decent, educated."  
So thats why he is talking about them. All about the money, Wayne huh? I run my fingers through my hair, getting nervous.  
"Although I didnt know any of them personally, like all Wayne employees, past and present. They`re family."  
There he said it. He didnt even knew them. he`s just using them to make it seem like he cares.  
The tv screen shows three photos. Each one of them a face of the subway guys. It feels strange to see them now after I killed them. my mind is racing, all over the place. Memories of their evil laughter coming back. Flashbacks of the pain they caused me. Physically and emotionally. Their photos might look innocent but I know what kinda guys they were. I experienced and wittnessed it. But what does Wayne know? Or the tv guy? Nothing. No one was watching them while they almost kicked me to death. I was alone. I`m always alone.  
"Did you hear that I told you we`re family" my mum says.  
"Shhhh shhh shhh!" I want her to shut up. I just cant stand her voice right now. Especially not now. She really does think Thomas thinks of us as family because she worked for him decades ago. I can`t listen to this. Its getting all too much. The only voice I have to listen to right now is the guy on tv. I take a deep drag of my cigarette. It feels like breathing is getting harder. Something is going on. Not just inside of me but in this city. In the world. And it started with me. Am I the center of something? The beginning or the end? Am I everything at once? Does someone notice its me?  
"There now seems to b a groundsweel of ani rich sentiment of the city. Its almost as if the less fortunate resitends are talking the side of the killer".  
Thomas talks about how much of a shame this is and that this is one of the reasons why he is running for major. Gotham lost its way.  
Oh you notice now? Where have you been all these years?  
Its hard. So hard to watch peoples ignorance and how they use things to make themself stand in a better light. A light of lies.  
They know ask him whats up with the eye wittness report of the suspect being a man in a clown mask.  
Now the walls are closing in on me. I`m terrefied but at the same time I am not. Unsure of how I feel I smoke my cig, not being able to blink while starring at the tv screen. This moment feels so much more like a daydream than so many dreams did. Is this truly happening? Are they really taling about a murder a did on the news? is this my first time ever being on tv? Well, I gotta be honest here I always thought my first time on tv would be a lot different. But here I am.  
So seems like there was someone wittnessing it. I should be worried now. I should freak and I know that. But what is bugging me much more is the fact that Thomas Wayne says "It makes total sense to me, because what kind of coward would do something that cold blooded? Someone who hides behind a mask. Someone who is envious of tose more fortunate than themselves. That the`re too scared to show they`re own face."  
Thats it. Thats when I lose it. I`m trying not to let it show because of mum sitting in the same room with me but it`s hard. I`m good at hiding my feelings in front of her or in front of anyone in general but this is too much. The news are making a total different story out of this, As if I was hiding behind a mask to go out an kill people. It was self defense for gods sake. I was wearing that damn clown make up because I was on my way home from work. Some shitty bullies started to attack a man in a clwon costume and now they are making him the bad guy? This is sick.  
I never cared about money. I just wanted to have enough to take care of mum and be able to pay rent. Even my dreams about being famous were never about being rich. It was about being seen and loved. But what do they know?  
I thought I was living an illusion but they are living their very own illusions.  
I feel my body tensing up. Every muscle. Every inch. My skin is getting tight. I lean back on the couch. I dont know what to do.  
"And until those kind of people change for the better,those of us who made something of our lifes, will always look at those who havent as nothing but clowns". Wayne adds.  
My legs start trembling. There is no way to hold them still. Bad sign. Very bad sign. I laugh to myself as I stare at the ceiling. What a joke. Great punshline with the clowns. I bet you are proud of yourself, Wayne. I bet you are. Always glad to be able to help to tell a joke.  
They thank Wayne once again while my mum tells me that this isnt funny.  
I wanna say something but I better don`t. It`s not a good idea to ruin someone else`s punchline.  
I inhale the smoke, the only thing that proofs taht I am still breathing.  
Because I cant feel it. The only thing I feel is rage and my left hand grabbing my right wrist.  
And this god damn candle that looks like a ginger cat staring at me.

I`m at Doctor Kane`s again and the concrete walls are closing in on me. There is concrete everywhere and I can feel it. Not only the for walls of this room that reminds me of another room but I`m not sure how`s that possible or which room it reminds me of. Its just the window and the lamps. And how tight it gets in here. How small. How small I get. Its also the walls outside. Every wall of every one of those skyscrapers. They`re replacing better things. I guess every single place on which a fucking skyscraper stands upon, there was something beautiful in the past. Maybe a tree or something that represents life and being alive. But those things? They`re dead. And the people inside of them are dead inside because they are feeling the walls closing in on them,too. I can feel the concrete filling their once soft hearts. I can taste the concrete while smoking my cigarette. It`s heavy and its building its walls around me until I compleately dissappear behind them. No one takes a look behind teh wall or tries to walk around it. People will think the concrete has always been there. They have forgotten about the tree long ago.  
So I´m sitting there between more walls and stairs and elevators that bring you nowhere but here to this room which is filled with piled up files of forgotten patients. There is a poster hanging on another wall. Saying "Its normal to feel trapped". And I wonder how much of this can be coincidence? The walls are talking to me now. They know what I`ve been thinking. Or maybe they even start to recognize me. They have seen so many. And they remember me. Like the guy on the radio, mentioning my name. Maybe things starting to make sense for once. Would be a nce change.  
I laugh to myself.  
Thoughts are a funny thing even if they aren`t funny. Everything has a funny side to it if you look at it long enough. Thats one of the reasons why I am a comedian.Its so close and true to what you call real life. And I need things to be real sometimes. I need a connection to what is there and there is a joke everywhere you look at. Most are black humor without a doubt. But the joke is still doing it`s job.  
"I`ve heard this song on the radio the other day and the guy was singing that his name is Carnival..."  
I just have to tell her. I cannot not tell her this. This might be one of the things that will make her listen and think about it. There must be something that changes the look on her face. Something that interrups the boredom and emptyness of her eyes. Maybe she is the one who isnt really there. Maybe thats why she is barely talking and not noticing things. She`s simply not there. Because if she was, there must be some kind of reaction, right? An acutual emotion, a response. Anything. But there isnt. She`s just an empty shell, nothing means anything to her. Because she might not be real. But I am and I will proof it to her now. She an`t ignore this. If she is real she just can`t ignore this.  
"Arthur...." she interrups. Usually I appriciate people calling me by my actual name. Its personal but people barely call me Arthur. I`m Happy and Carnival or not even being called a name. Sometimes at work, yeah but it never sounds like it should. I imagin how my name would sound like if someone who truly loves me would say it. Arthur. With a lovely softness to it. Arthur. A breath bretween kisses.  
I hate the way Dr Kane said it. Just the sound of it was asking me to stop explaining to her. And she doesnt even know what I am about to tell her. So I just keep talking, hoping she will react once I finished my sentence.  
"...which is crazy. Because that`s my clown name at work." A subtile point into her direction with my hand thats holding the cig. I`m trying to concentrate to explain it to her the best way I can. This is an important moment to me. Hearing that song playing was a sign. There was more to it and I know it. And I want her to know. I want everyone to know.  
"And until a little while ago it was like nobody ever saw me...."  
Like she doesnt right now. She is sitting right there in front of me and I ask myself which one of us is the non existing part of this room. It has to be one of us. I always thought it was me but turns out I was wrong.  
"Even I didnt know if I really existed..." I close my eyes to take a look on the inside and quietly laugh to myself.  
I said it. I knwo I handed her my journal so many times and I was writing about that a lot but she never stopped at those pages. I dont think she is aware of how I felt all my life. They send you here to talk about your feelings, telling you you will feel better afterwards but it really is just talking to myself . And I can do that at home as well. But I want to come here. I actually want to. Because there is this pathetic hope that some day I will tell her something and she will show a reaction or ask me a question that is challenging me. Or she is listening to me answering. I still come here to see if there will be a day that is different from all the others. And to get my meds of course.  
So now that i told her that i was questioning my very own existence ....what is she about to do? Send me back to Arkham again? Giving me more meds? More hours of taking to myself?  
Poeple keep ignoring you and then you are the one who is crazy for being ignored.  
"Arthur I`have some bad news for you."  
There again. My name. With an even worse tone to it.Bad news huh? Seems like today will not be the day something`s different. She`s not even looking at me now. her eyes are unfocused. Maybe she is thinking of another poster she could hang up. Like the one against drugs. But I have to come here to get my drugs. Like I said. There are jokes everywhere. Even on a concrete wall.  
Bad news. So what could it be? I`m crazy. Maybe bad but old news. Wayne is going to be Major. Maybe bad, maybe not. What do I know? But i´m aware of it. Mum tells me ten times a day. What else could it be? I`m not funny. Real bad. The radio isnt playing any music from now on. Real bad. I`m no one I`m no one I`m no one. Fucking bad.  
I look at her. Right in teh eyes. She doesnt like that. But if she doesnt do it I will. I look her right into her eyes. Existing or not.  
"You dont listen, do you?" I ask her. And her head is moving but her eyes are still empty. Maybe thats all that i get as a reaction.  
"I dont think you ever really hear me" I add. I talk slow and quiet. To make my self clear.  
"You just ask the same questions every week. How`s your job? Are you having any negative thoughts?"  
Why is she asking me to keep up with my journal if she isnt reading it anyway? Maybe she just wants to check if I added some more interesting pieces of porn magazines.  
How`s work? I can tell you how work is. Done. Its fucking done because they fired me. But I won`t tell you. And I won`t tell mum. I will find a way to get some money and you`ll never find out how because you`re never watching me.  
I tell her that she`s asking me if I have any negative thoughts while all I have are negative thoughts.  
Some thoughts are funny but that doesnt mean they aren`t negative. Black humor, remember? Black as the heart of Gotham city. Black as the blacked out pages of my torn diary. Black as the creatures of my nightmares, black as their claws around my neck and the robes around my tiney wrists. Black as nights made of insomnia and pain.  
Black, black, black and I get lost in it. Me, the light. getting lost in the dark. I need love to illuminate me.  
"....but you won`t listen anyway. I said for my whole life I don`t know if I even existed. But I do. And people are starting to notice".  
She takes a breath. Like she is about to answer. Maybe I finally suceeded. She can`t ignore this, right? I never pointed out before how ignorant she is. I dont hate her. I just wish she would notice how much of a let down it is to come here, hoping to get some help, to have someone to talk to, but all you`ve got is someone who makes you feel even more irrelevant. Maybe she isnt even aware of the pain she is causing. I bet she isnt. She doesnt even know herself. Maybe we have something in common. Drained and worn out by this town, by people, by the world. Life.  
Finally she says something.  
"They cut our funding. We`re closing down our offices next week."  
I exhale the smoke. And with the smoke another fragement of hope is leaving my body.  
"This city has cut funding across teh board, social services is part of that."  
I hear her words and try to understand what that means for me. What the consequences will be. My mind is racing while my face is resting as she says this is the last time we`ll be meeting.  
An "Okay" is all that escapes my lips. I try not to show what is going on on the inside. But maybe I should, Maybe I should just get up and rip those fucking posters off the walls. Theone with the cage is first.  
Cages. Bars. Creaures with cages around their heads. i`m that creature. Trapped inside of my own mind. And I can`t get out. I can`t get out. I need to talk to someone. I need someone to listen. I need someone to look at my drawings and ask me why that guy`s head is a fucking cage?! But she just turns the pages. She turns them like my thoughts are nothing. Like I am nothing.  
Now she finally looks at me. her eyes found their focus. "They don`t give a shit about people like you, Arthur."  
Thats the sentence she looked at me for? Wow. I smirk. Its the only thing I can do for now. The only reaction to being told what you always knew. People dont give a shit about people like you, Arthur. She really used my name to tell me this. This is personal. I came here for being suicial. And she tells me people dont give a shit about me. I`m sure I can work on a joke based on that. Based on how much it hurts.  
I nodd. Not looking at her anymore. I let that sink in. The sharpness and rawness of the pain. I let it sink inside of my body and let it spread. Are you having any negative thoughts?  
"Fuck!" I whisper to myself, taking the last drag of my cig before I put it into the ashtray. "How?...." my voice cracks. This is a bad surprise. even to me. I`m always prepared for the worst but this really gets to me. I dont even know why. The meetings are not satisfying at all and the meds dont seem to do anything. But I`m doing something! I come here to do something. Trying to get better. Trying not to give up compleately. Trying to get the help I need, even if I dont get it. I fucking try. So let me try! Don`t take the chance away from me to try. What will happen to me if I dont take my meds anymore? I cant even remember a time without them. Will I go through a withdrawal? Or worse? Seven meds. Things are not looking very good.  
"How am I supposed to get my medication now?" I swallow hard before I decide to look her in the eyes again "Who do I talk to?"  
I know it was more self talk than anything else but deep inside of me there was this hope that some part of her was listening. I know that now. I was still hoping.  
And I am hoping now.  
For her to tell me some last words to make me feel better. To let me know that hoping was the right thing to do.  
"I`m sorry, Arthur"  
I lose it.  
I lose it all.

I`m standing at the corridor at Pogo`s, checking my journal. The green,dim lights should calm me down but they don`t. The guy upstage is telling some lame jokes about sex. People approve anway. They always do when it comes to jokes about sex. I`m not sure why they do, I barely understand the punshlines. But I guess I have to figure that out. I barely listen to him because I´m up next and my mind is all over the place. I try to focus on what to do as soon as I pass that doorway, telling myself that I practiced this the best way possible. My hair looks fine, I wear some decent clothes, put two of my sleeping pills in my mothers oath meal. And cologne. The cologne is for Sophie. She must be sitting in the audience already, waiting to see my show. Thats what makes me most nervous. Everyone`s opinion is important to me but hers hits even different. I really want to be that special guy to her. The funny one that makes her laugh on a cloudy day. And it`s cloudy outside. And inside and inside of me. But I bet insode of Sophie the sun never sets.  
I cant wait to see how her beautiful eyes would light up, when she is laughing at my jokes. She never heard one of my jokes and I`m pretty nervous about it, but I guess thats the whole point. I gotta get through this to suceed . The funny thing is... I WANT to be upstage. But at the same time I get so nervous and all sweaty because I want to get it right. I always put pressure on myself when I wasnt to et it right. But I need it to be a perfect experience for everyone in this room. I want them to remember me and go like "Wow, this Artur guy, he really made me laugh. His jokes are the BEST." That would make me proud of mysef.  
"I think most woman look at sex like buying a car.You know like, can I see myself in this long term? Is it save? Is it reliable? Could it kill me? "....  
I try not to concentrate on the comedians voice. His freaking jokes are distracting me. I don`t think he`s funny at all.  
Is my hair still okay? I check it. Ran my fingers through it carefully as I make my way to the doorway and wait for my name to be called. I take a deep breath. Sweaty palms and all. A scratchy feeling in my throath. Calm down Arthur, this is what you want in life. Right? This is your dream. You can make it!  
"Alright this next comedian describes himself as a lifelong Gotham resident, who from a young age was always told that his purpose in life was to bring laughter and joy into this cold dark world...."  
I notice that he holds in for a second "Um...okay....." .I dont like the sarcastic undertone in his voice. He acts like I made too much of a deal out of this. Like the world isnt even THAT dark. Let me tell you it is. It is for people like me. Nevermind this guy. I just spotted Sophie sitting in the back. Beautiful as usual. I wonder if my name is echoing in her head.  
"Please help me welcome Arthur Fleck, Yàll. Arthur Fleck".  
Alright. Thats my call. The applouse feels good but bittersweet. Like a summer rain at the end of a hot day. I wave at Sophie and smile at her. Disctraction. A good one but I stumbe, tryng not to let it show how much this was setting me off.  
Smile Artur. Smile. You practiced this a thousand times at home.  
I place myself in front of the mircrophone and take a look at the audience. Its my job to make them happy now. They are waiting for me to make them happy. All that weight on my shoulders. But I know I can do this. I`ve got my journal with me and some jokes to tell. I try to breathe but its hard. Like the breath itself got stuck in my throath and transformed into something else. Manifesting into a bundle of stress. My forehead feels hot. I guess its glimmering from sweat. The spotlights will make it show. People will notice how nervous I am. Thats no good. Not at all. But I can do it. nd I will. I just have to tell them...  
"Hello....."  
Fuck! My voice is nothing but a whisper that cracks under the weight that is shadowing my heart. I`m short of air and I know what this means. Its the first sign of the laughter trying to get through. This always happens when I feel uncomfortable. Why Arthur? You are where you supposed to be. On stage! I`m talking to myself in my head. Which makes it even worse. Having a conversation with myself never managed to calm me down before. Why do I even try? Its hot. Its all so hot. This room, the spotlights, my skin,... And tight. I`m trapped in a little box. This room is the box and my body is another and my mind is another. And my breath is filling all the boxes and it can`t escape. I can`t breathe. Funny when you think about how much I wanted to stay here.  
I giggle to myself. Swallow a quiet laugh. My eyes serching for something to focus on.There is nothing. "Hm hm hm hm hm..." I hear myself chuckeling. I havent even said another word. This is going to be harder than I thought. I try not to hold thats smile. For them. For Sophie. Maybe they all think this is part of my act.  
"Hello, good to be here....." hearing myself trying to make this happen is painful and hilarious at the same time. I feel the pain but this other part of me? Makes nothing but fun of it. Maybe this other part is right after all. Maybe this part is the better comedian. Tragic comedy was always my favorite. Its so close to real life. Whatever that means.  
I crack up, turning my back on the audience so can`t see my face. I dont want them to see my pain. They would be so irritated. Not sure if this works as a part of my act anymore. This has already gone too far. They`ll think there is something wrong with me. I know it. They now realize. They will think I´m a freak. Proof them wrong, Arthur! You`ve got some jokes in your pocket and they will work so well ! I lean forward, laughing hard covering my mouth with my hands. This never works. My lungs start to hurt.  
C`mon Arthur. tell that joke you just figured out. Its a good one. They will love it. And if they`ll love it, they will love you.  
"I hated...." hm uurg... I need some air.  
My heart is pounding in my chest. I thought I would feel like a big star up on stage but the world gets biger and I am small.  
I cant keep up with it. My hand grabs my throath . Painful laughter. I close my eyes for a sec, trying to imagin empty seats. Only Sophie being left. Does it help? No. I need my audience. I need people to see me. The world gets smaller. All teh world is being trappeedin this tiney room right now. And I get bigger.  
Thinking about Alice in wonderland.  
One pill makes you smaller. The other one makes you taller....  
A cough.  
"I....I hated scool as a kid....." hahahhahahahahah.  
Flashbacks torture my mind. My teacher yelling at me to stop laughing. He looks like Hoyt. me hiding behind the trash cans after scool so the other kids wouldnt find me and call me a freak. My small body filled with tears but not one comes out. Only laughter. Their voices when they found me. "Do you think thats funny, Arthur? Do you really think thats a joke?"  
I bury my face in my elbow, hoping the laughter wouldnt be as loud. Trying to avoid standing in front of the mic.  
For god`s sake Arthur, just tell your joke.  
I stand up straight and look at the people sitting in their seats. I cant really see their faces or reactions. But its quiet. Too quiet. They dont know what to do. Just like me. Just like me. Just like me. What should I possibly do to save the evening?  
"I hated scool as a kid" ...hahaha....  
"My mother would say * You should enjoy it. One day you have to work for a living*"  
Oh I did a great job imitating her voice. I`m finally on the right path to do this.  
"No I won`t Ma. I`m gonna be a comedian"...... hahahahahahahahha.......  
No laughter? Its so quiet. Too quiet.  
I look up to Sophie. She`s smiling and I´m proud of myself.  
Time for the next one...  
Oh my god.  
Whats up next? I can`t remember.  
I nervously turn the pages with shaky hands and sweaty palms. All i can find are pornographic cut outs. People notice and the`re laughing. More than they did at my joke. Shit. I dont want this to get out of hands. This was just getting better.  
."Um...." I go through some more pages. This is for Sophie. She smiled once and I will make her smile again.  
"Here`s one....! You know...I was just thinking the other day: Why are the rich people so confused all the time?"  
My journal says POOR people but i dont noice because all i can think of is Sophie.  
Rich or poor...poor or rich... Its people in general that doesnt make any sense.  
But then suddenly...I do!  
i`m starting to make sense right now. Here up on stage with smiling Sophie looking at me with her dark, shiney eyes.  
The music starts playing. What a perfect timing.  
"Because they dont make any cents!"  
I spread my arms and people are starting to laugh.  
What a great punchline.  
I killed it tonight.  
Finally.


End file.
